Monday morning I had scrambled eggs, peanut butter, and yogurt for breakfast. It was just supposed to be scrambled eggs and peanut butter – the eggs swapping out for the yogurt, like an even swap on the food pyramid – and I was proud of myself for backing off my almost every single day breakfast of peanut butter and yogurt, because I eat too much of both – every single day – and already by eight or eight-thirty in the morning I am kicked out of keto, meaning none of the brain-brilliant-metabolism mechanisms for which keto is famous – plus I’d be trim and a handful of corpuscles healthier. So, I was proud early Monday morning.
But my DNA addict how could I ever go a day without yogurt and peanut butter won out easily – sometimes it’s shocking how easy changing my food mind is – so my breakfast became scrambled eggs, peanut butter, AND yogurt, three bowls to wash, and extra blocks to walk on my way up to coffee and on my way back, which, other than the taste of yogurt and peanut butter combined – which I LOVE – the good news out of my junkie behavior is I got to walk a lot longer in my ambling, carefree, lazybones dawdle that is a blessing and makes me happy and I could probably trademark at this point.
At least I’m mature enough to own my own. Ain’t no love like my brekkie love.
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